


quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

by k0skareeves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, F/M, Future Fic, Kissing, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, mentions of illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k0skareeves/pseuds/k0skareeves
Summary: Tumblr prompt: Jon or Sansa has had a rotten day and the other one wants to hear about it but they also can't resist kissing/touching as a way of perking them up. They wind up distracting their loved one from the bad day.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 119





	quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivilove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/gifts).



> this sort of works as a sequel to "this time in spring" but there's no need to read that first if you don't want to. also thank you vivi for the prompt, you're very sweet and i adore you <3

Jon has just finished putting on clean breeches when she comes in, quietly opening the door to  _ their  _ chambers. The word is still strange on his mind, yet after that first afternoon, Sansa declared that she wouldn’t have him away from her at night. He has no complaints, his dreams are much more peaceful with her laying next to him, and he has to admit that he rather likes to share a room with her, for her perfume - lemons, it’s always lemons - now lingers on his clothes, and there’s a possessive side of him that takes pride on smelling himself on her skin after they make love.  _ Soon, we'll share a scent of our own, _ he thinks, as Sansa passes near him, her fingers brushing his arm lightly, before she stops in front of the desk to fill herself a cup of Dornish Red, taking a generous sip of it. She does that without a word to him and Jon immediately knows that something is not right.

He goes to her, the rest of his clothes forgotten. They’re supposed to be getting ready for supper, Sansa likes to eat in the great hall with the people most nights, and she always insists that he washes first, saying how it’s improper to have a nice meal while smelling of sweat and mud. Jon doesn’t mind such things, has never cared much for cleanliness or tidiness, but in the two moons since they’ve been sharing a bed he’s been more and more mindful of his personal hygiene. He has found that it’s particularly hard for him to keep his hands away from her for too long, and Sansa is always clean. She bathes daily and her soft skin has a sweet, intoxicating scent, that has Jon dying to touch and taste her at every chance he gets. Sometimes, though, he’ll take her right after coming from the training yard, dirty with sweat and mud, only so that he can join her for her bath after, helping wash her long hair and the marks he leaves on her skin.

He usually takes her a second time on those days.

And mayhaps a third time when they settle for sleep.

Truly, it's hard for Jon to keep his hands to himself when it comes to Sansa.

She is already filling another cup, her shoulders visibly tense even from under her dress. He presses a hand on the small of her back as she drinks with a haste, a drop of wine running down her chin. Jon wants to reach forward and catch it with his lips, but her clear state of distress stops him from being so forward, so he merely tugs her to his chest, placing a kiss to her temple as his thumb rubs gentle circles on her back to try and soothe her.

“Tell me about your day.”

He feels her shiver as he whispers against her skin. With his free hand, he cleans the wine from her chin before cupping her cheek, fingers caressing her while he places a second kiss on her temple. She sags against him, closing her eyes, and Jon moves the hand on her back, his arm circling her waist, pressing her against his bare chest.

“The sickness is spreading.” Her voice is low and he hates how sad she sounds. With spring, all sorts of flowers are blossoming and Maester Wolkan suspects that this might be the cause of the illness affecting the common folk from the North. Jon isn’t so sure, for never before has an illness been as aggressive as this one - the people were suffering from a mix of fevers, headaches, shortness of breath and sometimes even violent seizures - yet it’s not his place to contest. In fact, that isn’t much that he can do to help, except perhaps soothe the Queen’s afflictions so she can be able to take care of her people with ease at this time of hardship.

“Has it reached Wintertown?” he says, lips still on her. He feels as she nods.

“Yes. Three people died today. A young woman close to my age and two elders, a couple. People said they'd been together for over fifty years.” She sighs again, reaching for the wine once more. Jon shifts around her, pressing her back to his front as she pours another glass, his right arm still holding her close to him. “I wanted to go see the bodies but Maester Wolkan said I shouldn’t, that it wasn’t safe.”

His left hand grips her hair, moving it to rest over her shoulder. She never braids it anymore, not even when they go to bed, and he likes it better this way. It’s easier to tug at, easier to wrap it as a rope around his wrist when he takes her from behind. “The maester is right,” Jon says, exposing her neck to him so he can kiss her sensitive skin.

He feels her throat moving under his lips as she swallows the wine. “He wants me to shut the Castle’s gates. Says it’s best to not risk it.”

He nuzzles her nape, her sweet scent overpowering him, his cock half hard pressed against her bum, yet he tries to focus on her words. There’ll be time for this later and what she’s saying is important. “He might have a point, but what do you think it’s best?”

Her silence bothers him, so Jon’s left arm comes to circle her waist as well, fully embracing her from behind, and his lips leave a trail of gentle kisses from the base of her neck to the back of her ear before he whispers her name. Sansa places the cup back on the desk and tugs on his arms. Jon momentarily loosens his hold on her, allowing her to turn around to face him, yet he doesn’t let go. Her eyes are on his chest, one hand on top the big ugly scar that lives over his heart, the other tracing circles on his stomach, her touch fire to his skin. He wants to pull her in for a kiss but she still hasn’t spoken, so he presses his lips to her forehead instead, whispers her name again, encouraging her to open up.

She finally meets his eyes. “If we’re going to shut the gates, I want to bring in the children and the elderly. We've been getting reports from all over the North saying they’re the first to die, and if we’ll isolate ourselves from it all we might as well isolate them too. I don’t want to lose more people than we have to and we can make room. It will be tight and we’ll need to be careful but I feel that this is what’s right.”

Sansa speaks with passion and Jon knows she's made up her mind. She doesn't need him to tell her he agrees, but there is logic behind her words. Logic, yes, and also her kind nature, always willing to do the most for others. It's one of the many things he loves about her. With a smile, he pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers caressing her earlobe and coming to rest at her slender neck, thumb pressed on her throat. "It's a good idea, and we'll make it work. We can start setting up beds in the great hall by tomorrow morning."

He says  _ we  _ because he'll aid her however he can. It's time he makes himself more useful, not just being a teacher for the young fighters and a lover to warm her bed at night. The northerners are his people too, and he cares for them as fiercely as Sansa does, because she taught him to.

"Alright then." She smiles at him, sky blue eyes shining a deeper shade under the candle lights. "You may kiss me now. I know you've been dying to do it since the minute I walked through the door."

Jon lets out a small chuckle, already coming to rest his lips at the corner of her mouth. "Am I really that transparent when it comes to my cravings for you?"

"You are, my love." She tells him, her arms moving up to circle his neck, her lips finding his for a sweet kiss before Jon has a chance to reply.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading! 💜


End file.
